Just A Warm Body
by Gracielinn
Summary: "Not for the first time today, he damned Garcia Flynn to hell and back twice over for leading Wyatt and his team of ill-prepared civilians on what was looking more and more like a wild goose chase through this barren, green wilderness..." (TFP)


_Note #1: This is a Wyatt POV, fill-in-the-blank story for Episode Seven of Season One, "Stranded."_

 _Note #2: This fic is in response to the following Timeless Fanfic Prompt: "Cold temperatures force characters into close proximity."_

Just a Warm Body

It was no use. Every time a fatigued Wyatt closed his eyes and began to drift off, he could hear her teeth chattering from where Lucy lay a few feet away from him, and when he cracked open one eye, he saw that even though she had wrapped her thin arms tightly around her middle and was holding on to herself for dear life trying to stay warm, her shivering from the cold, damp air was rapidly turning into full-body shudders. Rolling his eyes in resignation, Wyatt realized he was never going to be able to sleep as long as he could actually see and hear how cold Lucy was ( _which makes you sound like an ass, Logan_ ).

Why in the world the wardrobe bay at Mason Industries hadn't provided some kind of shawl or cloak or what ever women wore in 1754 for Lucy, he had no idea. All he knew was that her thin cotton dress and undergarments offered practically no protection at all against the sudden drop in temperature once the sun went down. Who knew that western Pennsylvania got this frigid in late September? Even Lucy had been taken by surprise. And why the hell wasn't the lifeboat furnished with some kind of blankets? " _Something warm_ ," he thought absently, " _but light, like maybe astronauts used_?" That seemed like an egregious oversight right about now.

Thankfully, he and Rufus were in much better shape, comfort-wise, compared to Lucy, considering they were each wearing tee shirts under their period-appropriate long-sleeve linen shirts, brocade vests, and thick wool jackets above the waist, and wool breeches and stockings and sturdy leather shoes below. Lucy's dress, however, as low cut as it was (not that he noticed the way the corset she was wearing very nicely pushed up her modest chest and revealed her delicate collarbones or anything), and with sleeves that ended at her elbows, unfortunately provided only a couple thin layers of material above the waist between her and the frigid night air. Not to mention the fact that she weighed, maybe, what, a buck ten? fifteen? at the most ( _girl definitely has very little meat on those elegant bones of hers_ ).

Not for the first time today, he damned Garcia Flynn to hell and back twice over for leading Wyatt and his team of ill-prepared civilians on what was looking more and more like a wild goose chase through this barren, green wilderness. And while he was still very angry at Lucy and Rufus, Jesus, he wasn't a complete monster. The team's safety and well being were his responsibility, and it would be petty and down right cruel if he let Lucy develop hyperthermia or pneumonia because of an inability to set aside his personal feelings. Sighing quietly, Wyatt came gracefully to his feet and going over to Lucy, crouched down behind her trembling form and murmured near her ear, "Lucy, are you awake?" and grinned faintly in spite of himself when she mumbled hoarsely, "No." She was a stubborn little thing, all right, as obstinate as a woman could be, something Wyatt had realized early on during their very first mission. The professor was also very smart, pretty, kind, and unluckily for him at times, damn near unmovable when she dug her heels in.

He spared a brief glance at Rufus, who had basically passed out cold as soon as he closed his eyes, if the gusty snores he was producing were any indication, before reluctantly coming to a decision. Wyatt swiftly stretched out behind Lucy and pulled her suddenly rigid body snugly against his, ignoring the way she had stiffened up like a poker as soon as he touched her. He patiently held his ground, not that difficult really, considering how bone tired Lucy obviously was, not to mention the fact that he was at least six or seven inches taller than her and probably outweighed her by sixty pounds or more. However, in spite of his physical advantage, Wyatt simply began to slowly, carefully rub his hands soothingly up and down her bare, goose-pimpled arms, shushing her sputtering protests, "Shh, Lucy, just relax, it's okay, I got you. It's all right. I'm afraid you're going to get sick if you don't start warming up, so please let me help you..." and Wyatt was relieved when after a long moment where he could practically hear her thinking, Lucy gave one last shiver and went limp against him.

Good Lord, now that she had surrendered and was lying with her back firmly against his chest and his arms were all the way around her, he could feel how dangerously cold Lucy had gotten. " _Bull-headed woman,_ " he thought in fond exasperation, because despite his lingering sense of hurt and betrayal after the mission to 1972 D.C., somehow Lucy Preston had managed to get under his skin and past his usually impenetrable defenses. After just a few months, Wyatt was torn between wonder and dismay at how attached he was becoming to the pretty historian. What was it about Lucy that got to him? Yes, she was very nice to look at, all big, expressive eyes and thick, shiny dark hair, and he never failed to notice that her very slim but gently curved figure managed to look enticing no matter what historically-correct costume she donned before each mission.

But he'd quickly learned that Dr. Lucy Preston was definitely much more than her physical appearance, pleasing as it was. She possessed a formidable intelligence, always reeling off historical facts, both well-known and obscure, with a breathtaking ease he'd come to respect (and depend on, if truth be told). And he had to admit, it definitely appealed to the soldier in him that Lucy had turned out to be fiercely loyal to the team. She had more than proved that upon their return from the Alamo. Hell, even before they arrived back in 2016, Lucy had saved him when he had apparently temporarily lost his mind during the final battle with General Santa Ana's troops, by adamantly refusing to leave Wyatt, even if it meant she would surely die beside him. When he had finally agreed to go, Wyatt had seen the sheer relief bloom in her dark eyes, and her small hand had trembled in his as they made a mad dash through the deadly hail of gunfire to the chapel and eventual escape through the aqueduct.

Thankfully, Rufus had noticeably looked the other way when Wyatt had reclaimed her hand during their hurried trek to the lifeboat, and after he carefully fastened Lucy's safety harness (regretfully, for the last time, or so he'd thought), she immediately reached across to him and he wordlessly grasped her hand in his again for the trip home. But his loyal, brave teammate wasn't quite finished saving him that day. No sooner had the three of them staggered out of the time machine, filthy, exhausted, and emotionally torn up, than Patrick Ramsey, the dick from Homeland Security, had stepped forward and attempted to kick Wyatt's ass to the curb. Even as he tried to shrug unconcernedly and turned to leave with the few remaining shreds of his dignity intact, first Lucy, and then Rufus, had come to his defense and practically risked being charged with treason by refusing to continue future missions if Wyatt was removed from the team.

He could have kissed Lucy, even in front of everyone, just for putting the sour look of defeat on Ramsey's face when Agent Christopher had confirmed to the HS agent that Rufus was their only pilot. That Lucy willingly, uncompromisingly risked her spot on the team and her future for him had put things into perspective right away for Wyatt. The three of them were a _team_ , the history professor, the Delta Force soldier, and the quiet genius. On paper, they were as opposite as any three individuals could be, yet together, each brought out the best in the others, filled in the gaps (so to speak), forming an unlikely partnership that worked time and again. He'd sincerely meant it when, in response to Dave Baumgardner's mission offer, Wyatt had without hesitation turned his old friend down. He _did_ have a new team, and while they were far from standard issue, he, Lucy, and Rufus made it work.

Wyatt guessed that was why despite a nearly superhuman effort, he had found it impossible to summarily dismiss Flynn's smug, malicious dismantling of the team. The trio had been through so much in just a few short months, a "trial by fire" situation if he ever saw one, and truly, as Rufus had quipped after their return from 1962 Las Vegas, the team really was starting to gel. But then that bastard Flynn and his thugs had snatched them in broad daylight on a crowded sidewalk, and by the time he'd regained consciousness, all three of them were helplessly tied to chairs. That alone had royally pissed off Wyatt, being unable to prevent their capture, but, oh, that was just the beginning. Wyatt was puzzled as Lucy stiffened in stunned dismay beside him when Flynn pulled that damn journal out of his jacket pocket, having no clue where all of this was going. His confusion had rapidly turned to shock, followed instantly by a red-hot anger. He wanted desperately to assume the terrorist was lying, but one look at Lucy's face and the guilt and shame he saw reflected there made him want to throw up. _Lucy had betrayed him? The team? What the hell?_

And while a small, still reasonable (not upset) part of his brain recognized the reality that Garcia Flynn was an NSA-trained master manipulator, with skills beyond Lucy's scope of experience, the rest of Wyatt was furious, hurt, and disappointed. All the strong, warm feelings he'd had for Lucy after their intense ordeal at and after the Alamo had just gone down in flames. Although Wyatt was vaguely aware that his heightened anger at Lucy was actually misdirected and playing right into Flynn's hands, he just could not contain his emotions.

He could still see the hurt resignation on Lucy's suddenly pale face when he callously threw the words, "I can't trust either one of you right now," at the others. Even a rookie "soldier in the field" like Lucy perceived how important trust was. He knew she'd understood the significance of him saying "I trust you" in front of Ian Fleming in 1944 Germany. These weren't words the battle-hardened soldier tossed around lightly. In his world, trust could mean the difference between life and death. In hindsight, it had been gratifying to discover that Lucy had received the message loud and clear when she used his very words to convince him at the Alamo.

So there was little doubt in Wyatt's mind, just from the way her narrow shoulders slumped and she dropped her sad gaze remorsefully, that she did comprehend and wearily accepted his strong disapproval for what he perceived as breaking the trust between them. Strangely enough, though, Wyatt found he was nowhere near as upset with Rufus. The jump back home was tense and awkward, with Wyatt masterfully disregarding his teammates during their post-jump debriefing, as he practically stomped past Lucy and Rufus to the exit, coldly ignoring the silent look of entreaty on Lucy's face as he had readily clutched his fury and betrayal to his heart. ( _Hey, he was the injured party here,_ _she_ _was the one who had kept vital information important to their missions from him._ )

For the next few days, Wyatt stubbornly, steadfastly pushed away the tiny voice of reason in his head that argued vehemently over and over on Lucy's behalf ( _C'mon, Logan, you know that half the reason you're so pissed is the thought of Lucy and Flynn sharing something you know nothing about_ ). Well, there it was. The crux of the whole matter. The real reason Wyatt just couldn't let himself get past Lucy's perceived treachery: she was _his_ teammate, _his_ friend (he thought), and on those endless solitary nights when his sole companion was his old friend Jack Daniels, Lucy Preston always had the great potential to be even more to him. Each time, the alcohol eventually lowered his resistance (every time), and that's when Wyatt willingly indulged his growing attraction to his teammate. He supposed it was only a matter of time ( _good one, Logan_ ), what with being in near constant close proximity amidst life-threatening circumstances to someone of the opposite sex ( _no, only someone like Lucy_ , his traitorous mind obliged). Naturally, Wyatt had always bonded with his fellow soldiers he served with, after all, your life was in their hands and vice versa.

But this problem was different, and not just because she was an attractive female, because he had served closely with good-looking women before and never experienced feelings like this for any of them. From their very first meeting in the lounge at Mason, when her soft voice had scolded him about calling her "Ma'am" and he'd opened his eyes to see a young woman around his own age with flashing dark eyes and lots of wavy black hair, full pink lips pressed firmly together in transparent disapproval, Wyatt was unable to suppress the grin on his face that only got wider at her indignant sniff in his direction as Agent Christopher walked in the room.

Even though he'd seen the way her face lit up hopefully when he arrived at Mason early this morning, Wyatt just couldn't stop hearing Garcia Flynn's cool, mocking voice in his head as he read supposed entries from that damn journal that Lucy would supposedly write in the future, and he got as close to openly ignoring her and Rufus as possible without being too obvious. No need to hand Agent Christopher a reason to ground any of them if she thought the team couldn't get along. Wyatt shut his ears to Lucy's soft, disappointed sigh as he brushed past her and went straight to wardrobe after their pre-mission briefing. He determinedly kept to himself in the mens locker room, even as Rufus looked like he wanted to say something, and by the time Lucy had struggled to get herself and a full skirt with petticoats up into the lifeboat and slowly, carefully gotten buckled in by herself, Wyatt was finding it harder to hold onto his anger. Deep down, he knew full well that he could actually be endangering the team and their mission (to 1754, which was pretty frightening itself) with his surly, unyielding attitude, but all day long, his heart steadfastly refused to see reason.

And, Jesus, it had been such a mind-numbingly, physically challenging day chasing the pitiful trail of bread crumbs left for them by Flynn. Finally, just before dark, since they were God knows how many miles away from the lifeboat, Wyatt had found a small, partially sheltered clearing where they could rest safely overnight. After they had shared a couple handfuls of some berries he'd managed to find, Rufus had declared he was actually sleeping sitting up, and promptly rolled over on his side and passed out. Amused at the pilot in spite of himself, Wyatt resolutely ignored Lucy's wistful, searching glance as he gruffly told her she should try and get some sleep since they would be up at daybreak.

He didn't want to admit it, but Wyatt was secretly proud of how well she and Rufus had kept up with him today, quite impressed with their dogged endurance, especially when he knew both of them were way outside of their comfort zones. Personally, he had never before been so grateful for the years of intensive survival training he had gone through in the service. This part of Pennsylvania over 250 years ago was a true wilderness, beautiful but dangerous, and Wyatt hadn't done this much strenuous activity since basic training. More than once, he had wished desperately for the knife Jim Bowie had bestowed on him just before their escape at the Alamo because numerous times today, the team had to go around thick, impenetrable foliage simply because they had no way to get through it.

As the team had trudged through mile after mile of the lush, uninhabited region and they grew tired and hungry, Rufus' normally cheerful demeanor began to dissolve and his muttered grumbling started to get on Wyatt's nerves. Lucy, however, hadn't uttered a single complaint, and although Wyatt could feel her eyes on him frequently, she'd tried to be as helpful as possible and willingly obeyed his orders to the letter, which for some irrational reason annoyed him. Under the crushing weight of his own fatigue, even Wyatt could see how messed up that was. But here he was, wrapped securely around Lucy's slender body, listening to her softly exhale, her breath comfortingly warm on his neck.

Bemused, Wyatt looked down at her and realized that while he'd been distracted by his troubled thoughts, Lucy had turned around in his arms and was nestled against his chest as trustingly as a child, one small hand clutching his shirt securely. He smiled faintly and carefully pulling her even closer, tucked her head under his chin, enjoying the fragrant softness of her hair as it brushed against his neck. While Wyatt was relieved that Lucy had stopped shaking with the cold and appeared to be sleeping at least fitfully, unfortunately, this didn't change anything. Even as he had struggled for days now to let go of his hurt and anger and disappointment, Wyatt searched his heart and found that he just wasn't ready yet to forgive Lucy, and so he told himself that all this cuddling together in the dark forests of 1754 western Pennsylvania was merely one teammate helping another. Nothing more. Tonight Wyatt was just a warm body.

 _A/N: This episode is one of my favorites in spite of Wyatt's pissy attitude at the beginning, and every time I watch it, when Rufus makes reference to the fact that they've been "stranded" so to speak in this place for three days when the episode opens, my brain starts asking what to me are very obvious questions like: Why is Lucy running around with an almost bare chest in a thin cotton dress and no coat while the guys are wearing like four layers of clothes? Why doesn't the lifeboat carry food rations and things like blankets in case of emergency? among other things. (I probably have too much extra time on my hands, lol.). So, I've been wanting to write about this great episode for a long time, and when the TFP put this particular prompt back into the lineup, I was inspired to write this story. Hope everyone likes it :) My thanks to all of you who read, follow, favorite and review my writing. It's much appreciated :))_


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